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imagines--galore · 1 year

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Hey! Can you do a Sherlock x reader based on love story by taylor swift? Like they're dating but reader's parents aren't in for it. Maybe age gap or something so they sneaks out and stuff.

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader - Victorian Era AU Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Mention of blood, and if you're from the Victorian Era prepare to be scandalized lol A/N: I mean the entire request?! I just HAD to put it in this era :3 Also I didn't listen to Love Story while writing this fic. Nope. Not at all.

Ever since you had met Sherlock at a Ball your parents had been hosting, you had been intrigued. He had no invitation, but had been able to fool all the guests into making them believe he was invited. Even your parents. You, however, had been suspicious and had trailed after him every step of the way.

He had tried to shake you off, but you were determined to prove his lies. And also because you wanted to avoid every single eligible male your Mother paraded before you, in hopes that you would pick someone to dance with.

You had finally cornered Sherlock under the guise of a dance. And he had been a little impressed that he hadn't been able to pull the wool over your eyes with his lies. So, he had told you the truth.

He was here to stop a man from killing his wife and framing her lover for it. And then he asked for your help. The prospect of doing something that went against your proper upbringing, compelled you to agree.

A few moments later, you appeared to fall in a faint, prompting all the attention to be diverted towards you. Providing Sherlock with ample time to stop the villain of the night without causing any unwanted fuss.

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From then on Sherlock would send you telegrams. And as soon as you received them, you would don your hat and gloves, and under the guise of some errand of some sort, would be out of the house.

Normally Sherlock would ask you to come when he required the assistance of a female in his case. Infiltrating a women society, or being in a place where no one would raise an eyebrow at her being there, you would gather whatever information you could pick up on and report back to Sherlock. There were even times when you would climb out of your window in the dead of night to meet with him and help him solve crimes.

His partner, Dr. Watson, had not been too keen on having a young woman accompany them to dangerous and uncivilized places, but you didn't care. This was the first time something exciting was happening in your life.

So far the only excitement that you had experienced had been news of a potential suitor. But that had fizzled out rather fast. Besides solving a crime topped sitting around in the drawing room listening to old ladies gossip.

Unless of course you were on a mission to gather intelligence. It was amazing, Sherlock had once told you, how much women and housemaids could pick up just because no one ever noticed them. You had helped solve quite a number of cases and murders just by listening in on gossip.

Your parents found out about your escapades a little later then they initially should have. Probably because your mother was a social butterfly who was never really home, and your father stayed at his office or his other lodgings in the heart of London most nights.

You had once been nearly caught because Sherlock and Watson had been attempting to chase down a runner, in a gentleman's pub. You had been waiting outside and as soon as the man had come racing out, you had simply stuck out foot, and watched as the man went careening into a fruit stall.

"Quick thinking Ms. Y/L/N." Mr. Watson had praised at which you had smiled in amusement. "Who knew a simple schoolboy trick would take down a murderer."

It was then that you had caught sight of your father standing at the threshold of the club, looking at you with rage in his eyes. Your face had paled, and Sherlock had noticed.

His mind was quick enough to deduce what was going on, and what would occur if he did not act quickly. Which is why he turned to you and gave a small polite bow.

"Thank you for helping us catch the criminal Miss. It was good fortune you were here at such an opportune moment." His hand grasped your gloved one, where he placed a polite kiss at the back of it. Surreptitiously he slipped his pocket watch into your hand, which you quickly palmed and gave him a polite smile before moving to speak to your father.

That was the first time you lied to your father.

How you had only come to deliver his pocket watch to him, which was, of course, not his. Since you had an errand to run in this part of London, you had opted to drop it off.

And that was that.

Or so you thought.

————————–

Your most recent adventure with Sherlock, turned into a rather pivotal moment.

In hindsight, perhaps posing as a couple at a masquerade had not been the best of plans. But there had been no other way. Sherlock had to expose the sweet old widow who was actually running a brothel under the guise of a respectable hotel. She had been hosting a masquerade at her family home, intent to keep up appearances.

All Sherlock had to do was sneak into her study and steal a few letters of correspondence that would expose her. What you hadn't expected was the old widow herself to be giving a tour of her home, and for an entire gaggle of women to barge into the study.

Where both you and Sherlock were.

Alone.

THE SCANDAL!

The gossip mill churned and soon the entire city of London knew that you had been caught alone with a gentleman with no chaperone.

The women who had caught you had failed to report that the both of you had been standing well away from one another, with you rummaging through the desk, while Sherlock went over every inch of the fireplace in case there was a hidden compartment.

But those were insignificant details.

Your father was furious!

He had raved on and on for hours how you had brought shame to the family name, and that no man would ever want to marry someone who had a reputation. Especially with someone like Sherlock? Who was considered an oddity and that most people in polite society shunned just because he was different.

You hadn't spoken once while your father scolded you, but once he began to call Sherlock names you had had enough.

Sherlock was your one and only friend, and the only person you trusted. You were not going to let your father slander him in such a manner.

But your defensive stance against Sherlock only made him angrier, and he gave you an ultimatum.

He would be marrying you off the moment a proposal came.

Regardless of the man's age or station.

You had been numb all over once he said that. Knowing him, he was vindictive enough to go through with his promise. And your father was a proud man who thought social standing was everything. You had just put a huge stain across your reputation, and it was up to him to fix it.

It never crossed his mind to marry you off to Sherlock, and you didn't suggest it either. Because Sherlock would never marry you. You were a mere acquaintance to him. He had no idea of the extent of your feelings for him and how deep they ran.

And perhaps it was better your feelings remained a secret.

————————–

Your father did not believe you capable enough to sneak out a few days after your initial scolding. He thought you that meek, demure young lady you had grown up to be. Of course, he had no idea that since you had begun to solve cases with Sherlock and had tasted what true freedom and joy felt like, it had been easy for you to show your true colors.

You had shown up at 221B Baker Street late evening.

Sherlock had been extremely surprised to see you there. Truthfully, he admitted to thinking you would never return.

"And why would I not come back?"

"Because....being with me would destroy your reputation."

"Its already in tatters Sherlock, I doubt continuing solving cases with you will change anything. Especially since it will be my last case."

He had inquired after your last statement to which you had revealed your father's plans to marry you off.

You had known Sherlock for the better part of a year now, and you had never seen him at a loss for words. But in that moment he had stared at you, and if you were to believe your hopeful heart, there was a troubled look in his blue eyes.

The moment passed, and he quickly told you about the case he had been working on solving and was about to go and confront the killer. As this would be the final case you both shared, you just hoped it was a good one.

————————–

And you certainly got what you wished for.

From the initial moment it was exciting. With the man trying to get away and you and Sherlock chasing after him. Once cornered, the man had taken out a pistol and fired. Sherlock had shielded you with his body, causing one of the bullets to graze his arm.

The Culprit ran out of bullets, and that was the opening Sherlock needed to engage him in a fist fight.

However, he underestimated the man's strength, and while Sherlock was strong and quite adapt at fighting, his bloodied arm did hold him back.

Which led to Sherlock being held by his throat, with the man squeezing as hard as he could.

So far, you had never actively participated in a fight. But in that moment, seeing Sherlock's panicked and terrified gaze flicker in your direction, something inside you snapped.

Letting out a roar, you picked up the first thing you could use as a weapon, which turned out to be an axe.

Makes sense since you were in a wood shop.

You hadn't stopped to think, hadn't even held back in the power of your swing and let the axe fall.

Hitting the man in the back of his head and killing him instantly.

You stood there. Every inch of you nearly covered in blood. You eyes were wide and lips pressed in a thin line in an effort to not scream out loud at what had just occurred. Your hands were still gripping the handle of the axe you had used to kill the man who now lay at your feet in a puddle of his own blood.

Kill.

By the Queen you had killed someone.

Granted he had been about to kill the man you loved, but still. You had killed someone. A man. A living being.

Your gaze couldn't leave his bloody figure, as you began to take in ragged breaths, small sounds coming from the back of your throat as you tried to draw breath without actually choking on it.

"Y/n?"

Your instincts screamed at you and you raised the axe above your head in an effort to defend yourself. Sherlock held up his hands in a surrendering motion.

"It would be redundant if you were to kill me after stopping him from doing so." He said. Anyone who knew Sherlock could see the worry in his eyes as he looked at you.

A sound finally escaped your lips, as your arms went limp and the axe dropped at your feet.

Sherlock.

The man had nearly killed Sherlock.

The man had nearly choked him to death.

The person you had killed had nearly taken away the man you loved.

Forgetting yourself and any form of decorum or propriety, you launched yourself at Sherlock and wrapped your arms around him, bloody dress and all.

Surprisingly, he reciprocated the embrace just as fiercely as you, if not more.

————————–

It was the dead of night, and you stood in front of your parents in a bloodied dress, standing besides Sherlock who was just as much of a mess as you were. Albeit his clothes were in disarray, his arm was still bleeding, and there were bruises all along his face and neck. Not to mention his bloody knuckles.

Your mother had fainted when she had seen you covered in blood, and your father was yet to say a word.

The silence would have stretched on if Sherlock had not broken it.

"I realize this is not the way one would expect to see their daughter so late at night, but I simply wished to clear some things."

He seemed to be gathering courage with every word he spoke. All eyes were on him as he continued.

"Your daughter has helped me put monsters in cages. She has helped solve crimes with her quick mind and sharp tongue. Not to mention she saved my life tonight. And I realize that we may have been caught in a compromising position but rest assured when I say that nothing happened."

He glanced back at you and you met his blue gaze. Something in his eyes shifted and an almost tender look came upon them as he continued. "Even though I wished that something would."

Your eyes widened, as your lips parted. You heard your mother release a horrified gasp, but you could hardly hear it over the thundering of your heart. Sherlock turned back to look at your father.

"You told Y/n, that you would marry her off to the first man who proposed to her. And as a man of honor, I'm sure you shall hold true to your promise when I ask you to give your daughter's hand in marriage to me."

This...........

This was a dream.

It had to be.

Sherlock.

Sherlock was asking for your hand.

Did that mean.........

Your father stood. He was a good few feet shorter then Sherlock, but he glared at the man with such hatred that you were sure your father would have him thrown out.

"You have one week. After which I never wish to see the both of you on my doorstep again."

With that he was gone, with your mother following after him, wailing at how he was making a mistake by marrying his daughter off to a lunatic.

You were still staring at Sherlock who let out a nervous laugh. "I thought your father would kill me for certain." He admitted, pushing his hair back from where the curly strands had fallen in his face.

"Y-you-" Seems he had rendered you mute with his proposal.

He shrugged. "Well it was the more logical thing to do. It would silence the gossip and keep your father from marrying you off to some unpleasant fellow." He frowned. "Then again, I do not believe I am a good man myself but perhaps the lesser of two evils."

Whatever your feelings were about the situation, in that moment your heart broke for him a little. Did he truly believe he was not a good man? Him? Who had helped saved countless lives and put so many criminals behind bars.

He was clueless when it came to himself.

So, perhaps it was a good thing you would be with him from now on to remind him of the good he did.

Walking towards him you slowly took his hand in yours. This was the first time you held his hand where neither of your wore gloves. With no barrier between your skin and his, you could feel the warmth of his palm against your own. Your eyes dropped to where his knuckles were bruised and slightly bleeding when he had thrown punches earlier.

"You truly don't see yourself as a good man do you Sherlock?" You asked, fingers brushing over his knuckles. "What people say about you? Did it manage to get to you? Make you believe you were not good enough." Whether a person was immune to the power of words or not, they still had an effect on them. He stayed silent, instead bringing his other hand up to place on top of yours, enveloping your hand between both of his.

"There was a time when I began to believe what they said. But then you came along. This nosy woman who refused to let me out of her sight because she knew I was lying." You smiled a little at the memory of your first meeting. "And having her speak to me like a normal person, and treat me as such, made me believe that perhaps I am good enough."

You smiled. "And the proposal?" You raised an eyebrow at the sheepish expression he wore. "Yes well, I had to do something to make sure we would continue solving crimes. If Watson can have a wife who was once an assassin, then I can have a wife who helps me solve cases, murder or otherwise."

A small laugh fell from your lips. "Well I suppose it is better then attending parties and sitting down for afternoon tea." He made a face at the very thought of both activities, prompting you to shake your head at him.

"It is a good thing you are past such frivolities and concern yourself with things that do matter." Sherlock stated firmly to which you gave him an affectionate smile. The both of you continued to look at one another for a good long while. Time seemed irrelevant when the two of you were together.

"You are aware of my feelings for you Sherlock?" You finally asked, unable to hold yourself back from asking the question. His eyes never wavered from yours as he leaned his head forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

"And I hope you are aware of mine."

#sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x oc #sherlock holmes #sherlock #bbc sherlock

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odessa-castle · 3 months

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HOW is your writing so good??? Did you make a pact for unspeakable power??? (That joke might be in poor taste). Anyway Im just trying to say I really love Nothing Like The Sun and greatly appreciate you writing and sharing it. Although I cannot wait to read more, please take your time resting/recharging, especially after all this amazing writing!

My questions:

I was wondering how you’d describe Branwyn. Asking cus I love her and want to attempt drawing her. Also just any other facts about her you wish to share!

I’m also wondering if you’re willing to point out another Shakespeare reference in your fic. Im intrigued but not well read enough to spot them lol.

Oh my gosh, thank you for all your kind words! And I'd be over the moon if you decided to draw Branwyn, so let me describe her as best I can!

Branwyn is a gold dwarf -- I haven't pinned down her exact age, but she's in whatever the dwarven equivalent of early/mid-forties would be. Let me break the rest of this into bullets so it's not a total wall of text (and so I can put all this behind a cut):

Branwyn has tannish-golden skin with warm undertones, dark brown eyes with an epicanthal fold, and a broad, flat chin.

Branwyn has thick brownish-black hair -- her hair would have a bit of a wave to it, but she wears it long enough that the curl pattern's been stretched out quite a lot. She usually wears her hair in a single long braid, reaching about midway down her back. She doesn't have bangs, but shorter strands of her hair do tend to escape her braid and frame her face.

She has high cheekbones, a wideish nose with a relatively flat bridge (although it's been broken more than once), and her lower lip's noticeably fuller than her upper one.

She has plenty of scars. I described a few in chapter 11 (the vicious gnarled scar across her nose and cheek; the shining band of skin around her neck, like a burn that never quite healed right), but those aren't the only ones. She's spent most of her adult life as a mercenary, after all.

Build-wise, Branwyn is about as stocky and muscular as you'd expect a dwarven fighter to be, lol. She's broad rather than curvy. She's usually in her Flaming Fist uniform/armor when she's speaking with Wyll -- when she's out of uniform, she's probably just sticking to a simple shirt and trousers.

idk what the queer scene looks like in Faerun, but Bran is a butch, full-stop. It's very sexy of her.

Some other tidbits about Branwyn:

Bran wears her hair long as a fuck-you to Thay. In Thay, shorter hair generally means higher social status, and the most powerful Red Wizards shave their heads bald so you can see all their tattoos. Slaves, in contrast, are forbidden from cutting their hair. After Ulder helped Bran escape, she decided to keep her hair long, because she didn't want to end up associating short hair with freedom and bring that piece of Thay back with her.

Branwyn has been married twice (and divorced twice). Her most recent marriage took place frankly too soon after she joined the Fist -- she and her wife stayed together a while, though, and probably should have split up sooner than they did. Wyll was in his preteens while this was going down; he worried about her, but he didn't really know what to do, and he felt bad about that (even though, like, he was a kid, of course he doesn't know how to deal with these things).

Bran loves Wyll dearly, but she's also very mindful of the hierarchies at play between them. Ulder has always been Branwyn's commanding officer, and she doesn't think it's her place to openly challenge or confront him about how he treats his son, or to act as a parental figure to Wyll in Ulder's stead. It's part of why she's so insistent about calling Wyll "milord" -- she's trying to remind Wyll that he needs to be mindful of the social expectations at play. Ultimately, I think their relationship can best be described as a lord and retainer type of deal -- a prince and his exasperated but fond knight/bodyguard -- until the end of Part One, when Bran finally says "fuck protocol" and helps Wyll escape from Baldur's Gate.

Bran's got a huge soft spot for kids. She swears like a sailor, though, so she has to check herself around them a lot.

As for your second question, a lot of the Shakespeare references are more structural than direct! Like, you know, a messenger rushing in at the wrong moment to deliver news of an impending catastrophe, and creating a tragedy of timing. One of my personal favorites, though, is the little nod to the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet in the scene where Cazador forces Astarion to expose himself to the sun. What light through yonder window breaks indeed -- although it's anything but soft.

(Yes, I know what “but soft!” means in the context of that line, but let me make dumb jokes.)

#the ask and the answer #loonyoz #nothing like the sun

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fizzingwizard · 5 months

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Time for some semi-ritual bitching about one of my favorite bitch-worthy topics, Yugioh

Why couldn't they have just done Memory World properly

Why make us suffer through Doma... and especially KC Grand Prix, a single episode of which is more boring than filler in any other fandom... and they made an entire filler arc out of it! Like Doma has lots of faults but at least it tried to do something interesting. It tried to develop characters, which proooobably shouldn't have been undertaken by a filler arc with no canon script to follow, but gold star for trying! Had a shitty finale not remotely worthy of its awesome beginning, but did we really expect any better? lol. KC Grand Prix tho, no. That's just there to Idk be mean to men with pink hair and dumb names?? In the ridiculous hair dumb names anime???

cut because Fizz has the curse of long-windedness thanks my evil fairy godmother

anyway back to Memory World, maybe the issue was the story in the manga still lagged behind where the anime was. I don't remember. If so I guess there was no choice but filler. Still, did they have to blow the budget on it? They lost most of their good animators during Doma, where they also introduced a couple new crap ones who stuck around till the end of course -___- And no doubt the animators were getting paid peanuts for long hours of work, and if they'd run out of budget to even pay that... well clearly the show should have been shorter. Like two whole filler arcs shorter. Just take a break, take a pause, come back when you're ready to do Memory World the way it should be done. Back then no one took breaks, "The fans will forget us," nowadays TV shows just up and away for multiple years at a time x'D before returning suddenly with a new season.

The reason I'm still salty and plan to be salty to my grave is just this. Memory World is the one and only YGO arc since season zero that was not explicitly about card games. They'd been dropping hints since the first that we could expect ancient Egypytian shenanigans in the finale. We were supposed to find out about Atem's lost memories and recover his name. That was the driving force behind everything that wasn't filler. I specifically became a fan as a kid because I enjoyed reading about Ancient Egypt and thought the idea of a millennia-old feud between a pharaoh and whoever Bakura really was sounded neat. So I watched hours and hours and hours of card games all for the sake of making it to Ancient Egypt.

(don't get me wrong I enjoyed the card games lol. Never ask a YGO fan to explain how watching characters stand around and yell "Pot of Greed allows me to draw two cards from my deck!" for hundreds of episodes somehow stayed fresh and interesting)

So we reach Memory World at loooooooong last and. And the animation is the worst. Atem falls off a cliff it's just like "ow." Bakura isn't have as intriguing anymore now that he's a poorly drawn anime guy with scars. He arrives toting Atem's father's mummy it should be scary. It should be shocking. But instead, for some reason we watched dancing girls of questionable historical accuracy repeat the same frame several times, while Atem makes a face like a baby trying his hardest to go number two in his diaper. In the manga this scene is really funny, with Siamun being Sugoroku in every way, and Atem in his awkwardness being more Yugi-like than we've ever seen him. In the anime they are just going through the motions. There's no life in anything.

The one thing the anime version got right was understanding that this was the one and only opportunity we'd have to learn about Atem. You know, half of the main character for the whole show. Even the manga is really so busy doing plot stuff it kind of forgets to make us care about the ancient Egyptian cast. The anime took advantage of the need for pacing to give us a couple low key moments about Atem & Friends, but for some reason it decided we should 1) know what Atem looked like falling flat on his nose as a toddler, and 2) show us that from a young age he was making grand progressive speeches about equality. Seeing Atem portrayed as a nice guy who cared about people gave me mixed emotions after watching him struggle for seasons with the possibility that he might have been a bad king and not remember it. Because we got a whole season of him making mistakes and disappointing fans in Doma, and now in Memory World the final answer to what kind of person Atem was is just "well he's a good guy in the modern sense of the word lol" and then we move on. Also, neither that speech, nor Doma, are manga canon, but fans on the whole remember Doma much better than they remember nice guy baby Atem. Which is so very nice -.-;

So Memory World could have been so much fun, exciting, adventurous in a way you can't always be when you have to stay put on a holo-duel stage (card games on motorcycles hasn't been invented yet!), and insightful about a character who has been the central point of everything yet whom we knew next to nothing about. Instead it was a poorly animated clusterfuck of battle scenes that were difficult to make sense of. The Bakura stuff was the best. The Kaiba-insert filler was the worst. I was disappointed with Set's arc in the manga as well, another thing that had been built up for years and years and ended up more about the mysterious waif-like dragon girl than Set vs Atem. If the anime changed something to add in Kaiba, I wish they'd have rewritten the Set vs Atem duel so it was mildly interesting, and Idk maybe Kaiba could have teamed up with Atem against his past self, which would have aggravated him to no end? Instead of just wandering around insisting none of this could really be happening. Or he should just not have been there at all. Personally I go the DSOD route and pretend Kaiba was never in Memory World, same as the manga. It's not like erasing him from the anime version has any impact on events bahahaha. He was included for MONEY MONEY MONEY popular character NEEDS to stick around even if he has abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do because MONEY MONEY MONEY

I love DSOD to pieces. But my own dream for the anniversary project was a remake of Memory World. Even if it had been a 90 min movie version instead of several episodes, as long as it was better quality, and invested in Atem as a character instead of simply as a pawn in a game, I would have enjoyed those 90 mins better than the entire Memory World season. Doma and KC Grand Prix were a mistake if they played a role in how awful Memory World was.

But they did the Millennium Duel well. Not astonishing, but really, except for useless Kaiba being there, it was more than adequate. (And although Kaiba himsefl was useless, it was cool seeing him rejected as an opponent for Atem in favor of Yugi. Actually I kinda wish they'd made a bigger deal out of that...) Kid me cried buckets (actually I must have been well into my teens by then bahahaha. I def cried though). Thanks to those final two episodes, the series send-off didn't leave me with a bad taste in my mouth. If it had ended with Memory World it would have been an even bigger disappointment to me than the finale of Bleach. And I despise the finale of Bleach x'D

#yugioh #youre never too old to be salty about cartoons amirite little kuriboh

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ganondoodle · 2 years

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Hey, I adore your artstyle mate, I loveeee all the vivid colors and the fact that most of it lacks lines?? You doing the hard stuff, but it paying off 💜

can I ask, as I’d like to get into comic making, how long does it take you to finish a a single panel?

Hi!! thank you very much!! drawing lineart is incredibly frustrating to me so im very glad i was able to make the jump to mostly lineless artwork, tho im very much still at the beginning to learn how to do it xD

to answer your question, i .. cant say really, it depends on what is on the panel, and i always jump around when working on a page, i draw half of the very last panel, then jump to another, maybe i see something i want to change right away and work on the third besides i ... dont know anything about panel composition, i think in movies so i play it and try to pause it on a frame that could work as a panel, whichs is probably why it goes alot slower than normal comics, idk how much to skip gndfjknvgfdjk

im by no means an expert in making comics, you kinda have to find your own way of what works for you, i have done many in the past but all failed, i gave up before getting even one chapter done many times

general advice i can give you is, most importantly, dont wait, i know its daunting to start, but you have to start, even if you dont think you are good enough, you will always change and improve anyway, better start now or you might do it never, and remember, when a page is done its done, i know how tempting it is to go back and redo it, but if you start with that it will only lead to an endless cycle of remaking it over and over

a cause that made me abandon my old projects, was partly lack of support/recognition, but mostly that i was forcing myself to things that werent fun, like one i made in black and white bc i thought you had to do it bc color takes too long, but i live for colors, so it drained the fun out of it immediately

the only "rules" i have set for myself is that its understandable, the flow of the action doesnt flip around too much, speech bubbles are aligned in a way that guides you (of course im not perfect at that either and always learn); i dont jump between pages, i jump between working on panels, but i dont start another page before the previous is at least acceptable, otherwise id get ahead of myself and get impatient, just wanting to skip ahead and neglect older pages; and that i only work on a panel/page as long as it has acceptable quality and is fun to draw, when i notice im getting bored or frustrated i finish it quickly as best as i can and move on, otherwise it might drag the entire project down, which is why each panel or page in 'Destiny' varies alot in quality

i can barely look at the first pages .. or even at the last one i made for that matter, but its also fascinating, how much my art changes within even one update which takes me about a month for 4 pages, since i have set my 'fun' rules at least, it used to take much longer (i wish i was faster, and i could be, but i have a job, and have to look out for my health, both physically and mentally, so i take whatever time i need and draw however much i feel like drawing, no rushing)

my progress so far is that i write a rough script, what happens, what dialog, where it ends, and so on, it doesnt have to sound good, god knows mine are shitty xD but its a good guideline, even if rough! then i make a rough draft, basic panel layout, dialog (it always changes fro mthe script, again its more liek a guideline than a rule ;) ) then i start with actually drawing the first page, my art and way of .. art and writing changes incredibly fast (idk if its for the better lol) so .. by that point i redraw the rough draft version of the page if i see how it works better, rewrite dialog too, and even cut stuff from the rough draft

im not done with the first chapter (im slow af lol), but wrote the script for the second one when my hand was injured and i couldnt draw for a month, once im done with this chapter i will draw the rough draft for ch2, then write the script for ch3 then go and draw ch2 fully, at least thats the plan the more time passes the more i know what the next chapters are gonna be, tho i know the important points long before; right now i have the entirety of the first arc sepeareted into chapters, and the end of it all too, but between there its still a lil blurry and im adjusting everytime i think of soemthing better

anyway, sorry for that long ass ramble, its late and i thoguht about this ask bc im trying to get my want to draw back (not feeling well rn nkfdnkd) so i randomly decided to answer it .. probably in the most unhelpful way possible, alot of stuff noone aksed for lol

anyway, sorry, and goodnight uwu

#ganondoodles answers #i hope i didnt sound too preachy #or soemthing #idk im not good at giving advice #..and my way of drawing changes so fast #whenever i explain sth it usualyl changes right afterwards #and man that feels shitty #like im lying to people #:(

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dark-horse76 · 7 months

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Last weekend, I went to my first comic convention! I've been to conventions before (Star Trek ones) but not comic ones.

I was by myself, and it was a bit overwhelming lol. I'd bought the weekend ticket, because I wasn't sure which day I'd go to and was potentially thinking of both. In the end, I heard the Sundays were quieter and so went on Sunday.

If that was quiet, I'd hate to see what busy was 😂There were sooo many people, and it was so noisy.

I didn't go to any of the panels. That felt like too much for this time, so I spent the few hours I was there walking around all the tables, trying to scan for anything that looked interesting but also trying not to get too close and get drawn into sales pitches and/or conversations I'd not be prepared for (I was only semi-successful at this).

I must've had A Look on my face every time I approached a table, because more than one of the people at the stalls said, "It's okay, you can touch them". 😂Which did not, in fact, make me feel any less nervous about touching the comics on display. 😂

I also went up to a stand manned by a couple guys I'd met previously at my local comic shop's social get together. The guy there when I approached didn't recognise me, and he asked what kind of comics I like. Being already so far out of my element, I didn't know how to bring up that we'd met a couple times before and panicked, so I just said I don't know what kind of comics I like 😂(although, tbf, that is essentially the truth hah, no matter how funny it sounds to anyone hearing it) and focussed on my other reason for dropping by their stand - the other guy was debuting a comic at the convention, which I'd backed on Kickstarter, and was there to pick up.

There were a few other people I've met before there (like, a few people who own/work at my local comic book shop), but there were just sooo many people that I didn't cross paths with any of them, except for a person I recognised, having met at another of the comic book shop's social things, who had a stall for their book(s).

Aside from just generally looking around, my other aims for the day were to visit a few specific tables. I picked up my own copy of Ask for Mercy (and a cool bookmark) from Abigail Jill Harding and, fortunately, no one at the table seemed offended when I said I hadn't thought I'd read the book, because the story was too weird for me but that the art is just soooo gorgeous that I have to read it anyway xd (which is good because I didn't mean it offensively) (Seriously. The art is so incredible. I'm going to also give Parliament of Rooks a go, because I think I really love her artwork. Also the title makes me think of Six of Crows, so... xd)

Another top priority was visiting Jacob Phillips's table. I picked up a really cool print of The Enfield Gang Massacre issue #1 cover art and a That Texas Blood button. It has joined the other TTB button I had at home. :D

I'm kind of hoping there will be prints like this of all the covers, because they're interlocking covers, and I'd rather frame the prints instead of the actual comic books.

He was going to sign the poster, but I asked if he could sign something else instead. Last year, before I'd really got into comics but could tell it was a matter of time, I made a little drawing on the subject. And because that represents something for me, how important comics now are to me and how much I love them, I decided I wanted to ask those folk whose work I love and is important to me to sign the back of that (I've actually laminated the drawing and then glued a sheet of cardstock to it). Jacob Phillips's work is very high on that list for me. And he did agree to sign it. He also briefly looked at that terrible awful drawing, so that was embarrassing, but... 😂😂😂

He had some other art for sale, but I was way too nervous to stand there and go through it. It was funny that I already own a copy of almost every single book he had for sale on his table haha. I think there was only one that I don't have, and I think it was one of the Ed Brubaker/Sean Phillips ones that I'm not yet sure I want to try. Although, now that I think about it, if Jacob Phillips was on colours... ngl, that means I do want it. Darn it. My brain was definitely not working by then xd.

I had hoped to come across a couple other people, but did not. One of them is another person whose work is on that "very important to me" list. Next time, perhaps!

There were also a lot of queer tables, which was really cool. I picked up this patch from one of them.

I don't really know what to do with it, 'cause I don't put patches on my clothes or bags lol, but I love it, so I'll have to find something.

I haven't really started on the comics I picked up from the convention yet, except for one. That one (not pictured) is (hopefully) the only dud. I'm a bit of a sucker for the setting/topic and was just so nervous that I basically just agreed to buy them without really looking at them or considering what I thought the odds of the topic being handled well by the creators were. That was definitely my mistake. I kinda feel icky having them in the house, so I'm not totally sure what to do with them lol.

Oh, I did read Zac: Death and Admin. That one's cute, and I hope I can pick up any others that may exist. Ambrosia is also technically a gift for a friend, but I'm gonna read it first xd.

Overall, it was a pretty good day. I'm glad I went, though I kind of wish I'd gone to the first day. Next time, I may have to figure out something for my cats so I can perhaps stay in the town overnight (and not travel way too much) and go to both days. I'm also going to go to panels next time.

#comics #about me #thought bubble 2023 #thought bubble

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jackrrabbit · 3 years

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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

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yuujism · 3 years

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itadori, fushiguro, gojo & nanami — cuddling headcanons

REQUEST: Not to be so- sof- s*ft or anything but can you do hcs of cuddling our bois to sleep because you had a nightmare? Had a nightmare about a clown coming for my ass last night and that was NOT what I call festive >:(

| PAIRINGS: itadori yuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru and bonus! nanami kento x gn!reader (separately)

| WARNINGS: fluffy, having nightmares, cuddles omg, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: idk lol

A/N: hello! (´∀｀) omg anon this request was a while ago so uhm sorry dkjshs but i’m delivering to you!! also i liked this idea a lot bc i’m feeling fluffy 👉👈 so i might do another part of these hcs with yuta, nobara, geto, miwa and whoever you would like!! so anyway!! hope it’s what you expected and enjoy!! 💕

Itadori Yuji

Now when i tell you i see yuji as a heavy sleeper

He may not notice the way you woke up with heavy breathing after a nightmare right away

Or the way you’re moving around

Or the fact you’re softly calling his name for him to wake up

But... well, there’s really no but’s

Yuji won’t wake up until you’re shaking him roughly by his arm

His blurry sight would only let him see yoir silhouette through the dark

But after a few seconds when his brain was a little more functional, Yuji finally heard your breathing

Yuji would immediately go into must protect mod

“Baby...”

His throaty voice would be full of concern yet it would be so sweet as he opens his arms

He is so warm when you finally accommodate yourself in his arms

The skin to skin contact is so relaxing you could almost melt in his embrace

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Want anything?”

You can see he’s still sleepy yet he would jump off the bed if you asked him too

But this time you just wanted him to hold you

Yuji would definitely run his fingers on your hair, massaging your scalp as you breathed in his scent

You can also expect him to start rubbing your back softly and intertwining your legs

In some occasions he would start telling you something funny that happened during his day

Feeling his chest vibrate under your cheeks as he laughed at a particular moment

Yuji definitely kisses your head and your cheeks when your position lets him

He’s just really sweet and understandable, drawing circles over your arm from time to time

Would sometimes hum a random song while your breathing calmed down

Yuji knew he wasn’t perfect at comforting but he tried to be for you

And even if he’s way too tired, Yuji would always wait for you to fall asleep first before he closes his eyes

Fushiguro Megumi

Megumi would be studying while you were taking a nap

I mean, it was like 6pm and you decided to sleep?

Megumi sighed in disbelief at your logic

But then he heard you letting out small noises as you laid in his bed

And at first he tried to stay concentrated and pay it no mind

He really thought it was just your usual sleepy babbling

But when Megumi started hearing your heavy panting

And then your soft cries

Megumi jumped from his chair as fast as he could, running to the bed where you were squirming around

“Y/N?” he whispers, shaking your frame softly

And when you wake up abruptly, eyes filling with tears while looking up at Megumi and flying to his arms

He can’t help but think how cute you are

Megumi feels kinda bad for that ngl

But he’s quick in wrapping his arms around you and lay down next to you

“Bad dream, huh?” He would genuinely ask as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, nodding

Megumi would chuckle and shake his head amusingly

He just really thinks you’re adorable in this state

Would totally read a book or just get lost in his own mind as you breathe calmly next to him

Megumi knows you’re pretty vulnerable when you have a bad dream, so he’s really careful with his actions

He tries to be more gentle with you

Really bad at cuddling and being the big spoon when needed like these times

However Megumi really excels on making you feel protected

Would just hold you tightly and whisper a few “Better?” until you tell him you are okay

You always say you aren’t even if you are just to feel him a little more

Megumi would kiss your nose when you fall asleep again before going back to his own work

Gojo Satoru

This man can be as thick in the head as a brick wall

And also quite an annoying pain in the ass

But he’s cute

And he’s also super caring for you and would never belittle your worries

So when you’re laying next to him one night and start moving around more than usual

Even if it’s just a small movement

Satoru can feel it

Maybe it’s the way he got used to sensing everything around him

But he can clearly feel the way your chest is rising up and down quickly

So naturally, Satoru sits down on the bed looking at you for any kind of reaction

And when you open your eyes with a big gasp only to see a pair of piercing blue eyes looking at you

You swear you got even more scared for a small moment there

But Satoru was quickier and rubbed your cheek with his hand, smiling softly

“You okay there, babe?” it’s kinda lighthearted the way he says it, trying not to sound too serious

And you just shake your head, a small hint of a pout on your face

This is where cuddly!Satoru comes to life

Even if he says otherwise, he actually loves being the big spoon

Satoru loves the feeling of your body pressed against him

So if holding you meant making you feel better then it was a win-win situation for both of you

Looooves drawing small circles on your tummy and thighs and kiss the back of your neck

Satoru is just really touchy and sweet when it comes to cuddling so expect a lot of kisses

He would most likely throw his long leg over you when he’s half asleep

After that nightmare, whenever he feels you move around, he tries to hold you tight in his sleep

Satoru does this so you don’t feel like you’re alone only because he’s asleep

Overall really sweet and cute, pretty clueless with his soft kicks when you both are already sleeping soundly

Bonus!Nanami Kento

So Nanami really takes care of his sleeping time

He’s usually really tired so he would rather not have anything disturb him

But for you, he makes an exception in almost every single aspect of his life

So when Nanami feels the way you’re poking his arm, almost shyly

He wakes up to look at your nervous face, just one eye open as he yawns a little

Nanami is a man of a few words and a good observant

So you don’t have to say anything because he’s already wrapping an arm around you

Pulling you close to his chest as he places a kiss on the top of your head

“It’s okay, I’m here with you” he would whisper tiredly, releasing a sigh when he feels the way you nod

Nanami doesn’t have to say much to you and you’re glad for that

He has a way to make you feel safe with the smallest of touches

So you sleep soundly with his hands caressing your arm and listening to his breathing

Nanami secretly loves the way your lips brush against his chest

He decides it’s time for him to sleep again once you’re asleep

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen writing #itadori yuji x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

#bnha 317 #all might #midoriya izuku #and endeavor and hawks and mt. lady and all the rest of them I guess #literally forgot all about them by the end lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this wound up so long lmao I'm so sorry

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

#BNHA #My Hero Academia #anti bakugo

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirstein angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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aslitheryprinx · 3 years

Note

Fake Fic Titles:

You Look So Different When You're Sleeping

Under The Moonlight

Please Don't Leave Me

There's A Monster in the Sky, in the Wood, in the Fields

These prompts are all so good!! Again, I kind of wrote a LOT for this lol. I hope you enjoy!

CW: some fear and panic, sacrifice.

Nothing too dark this time.

You look so different when you're sleeping

A borrower is rarely active during the day. It is much safer to borrow when the humans are asleep, less likely to see you. Ranboo has no desire to borrow during the day. The very few times he's been awake while the humans were have been terrifying. He's never even had a close call; there's just something frightening about watching humans move and interact with the world, even from a hidden position. They're too fast for something so large; too attentive, too intelligent. They are loud and smart and utterly petrifying, and Ranboo will stick to borrowing at night, thank you very much.

But... In the darkness, in the peace and quiet of the night, the humans aren't quite as frightening. They're still and calm while they sleep, expressions lax and breathing deep and slow. It's almost... Peaceful seeing the giant beings so still and gentle.

He probably shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching the human sleep with such fascination. But he's done everything thing he needs to do... And everything he doesn't need to do. He has no chores to keep him occupied, has enough food stored to last for weeks if it keeps that long. He has nothing to do, and finds himself drifting to the human's room. He climbs the nightstand, only a little nervous at how close he is to the dangerous being, and watches.

It's relaxing somehow, and the human looks much less like a dangerous threat like this. He looks more like a person. Which he is, humans are people, but it's hard to remember that when they walk past and all he can think of is how easily a single step could crush him.

He feels calmer than he has in a while, and watching someone sleep makes him sleepy. He's tempted to blink his eyes shut, but he can't while still in a dangerous place. But he's tired enough he should probably head home.

Ranboo stands up, and is about to start the climb back down the nightstand when the human shifts.

Instantly he's alert, adrenalin flooding his body. He doesn't know whether to run, try to make it to the floor before the human wakes up or to hide on the nightstand and pray he isn't seen.

He's too slow to decide, to frozen with indecision, and the humans eyes snap open. A second later, an eye half his size filled with a terrifying amount of intelligence rests on him.

There's a blink as the human registers his presence, then the human is sitting up, laser focused on him.

Ranboo trembled under the gaze, wishing he could just teleport away to safety. The human had looked much less terrifying when he was sleeping.

Under the Moonlight

Please don't leave me

Ok I'm just gonna bullet point this one lol.

Phil is an immortal with a strange curse

When he's beneath the moonlight, he can move. But when he's no longer touched by the light from the moon, he freezes into a solid statue.

This causes a lot of problems, and he's found out the hard way that's he can't die. If he's smashed to pieces, he'll just wake up beneath the next moon, completely fine.

One night when the moon is not out, a strange man finds him and takes him home.

The man, Technoblade, restores damaged statues, sculpture, and similar art in his free time, and Phil is apparently damaged enough to need restoration.

Eventually Phil is placed by a window. The problem is, the moon only shines through for less than an hour each night.

Phil needs to figure out how to escape outside in that short time frame... Without alerting the human, who seems far too perceptive.

Wilbur should've known better. Really, falling asleep while outside of the fae realm? That was just asking for trouble. Any human, or just a wild animal for that matter could stumble across him and that would be that.

At least he'd had the sense to stay in his insect form. To any passing humans, he just looked like a butterfly. Perhaps his brilliant blue wings were a little unusual, but not enough to draw suspicion.

Unfortunately, his butterfly appearance did not seem to help him any this time. Because when Wilbur woke up, he was in a jar.

He'd been caught, by a human child no less. And according to the natural laws of the world, his magic wouldn't work once he'd been trapped, not until his captor decided to release him.

Wilbur was in quite the conundrum. There was no way the kid was going to release a cool butterfly he caught. But if Wilbur revealed himself, there was no guarantee he'd want to release the even cooler fairy. Still, being in his normal form would at least give him a chance of talking his way out, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in a jar.

With a sigh, he shed his insect disguise. As expected the kid gasped, and gazed down at him with wide eyes.

"Woah!!!" the young human gasped, raising the jar higher and staring at Wilbur. He couldn't lie, having someone so much larger than him looking so closely at him was a little unnerving. But Wilbur put on a charming smile to talk to them.

"Hello!" He said, and the human kid grinned.

"Hi!" He replied excitedly. "You're a fairy? I've never met a fairy before! What's your name?"

Did... Did the child not know anything about fairies? Did he not know the power names held? Well if not, Wilbur certainly wasn't going to tell him. He also wasn't going to give him his full name, whether or not the kid could use it or not.

"You can call me Wilby," he said, unable to tell a complete lie. It was a little bit embarrassing to give the kid his childhood nickname, but it would do.

"Wilby," the kid repeated and despite his awkward situation, Wilbur had to fight the urge to coo. The kid didn't say his own name, however, so he decided to push slightly.

"What's yours?" He asked, not an ounce of deception in his voice.

"I'm T- uhhh I mean I can't tell you. The adults say we can't give our names to strangers."

Damn. At least he didn't know why, which meant Wilbur still might be able to get out of this.

"That's ok," he says, showing none of his disappointment. "We'll just have to become friends first."

He's a little startled when tears spring up in the kid's eyes and he sniffles. Oh dear.

"Really?" The kid asks. "You'll really be my friend, Wilby?"

That should have no right to make his heart melt. He was trapped in a jar for fuck sake! He needed the kid to free him, not make him feel soft.

"Of course," Wilbur said. "Could you let me out of the jar first?"

The kid hesitates and he fights the urge to curse. It's worth a try, but he gets the feeling it won't be that easy.

"But... if I let you out, you'll go away," the human says sadly. It's true, but Wilbur refuses to feel guilty for that fact. "And then I won't have any friends at all."

"I can't be your friend if I'm in a jar," Wilbur tries. "Then I'm just a prisoner." The kid hesitates even more.

"How about this," Wilbur hedges. If you promise to let me out, I'll be your friend."

The human lights up.

"You promise?" He asks. Wilbur words his promise very carefully, knowing he'll be held to it by his own nature.

"I promise that if you let me out, I'll be your friend," he says, and the human cheers.

"Now we're friends forever!" He says excitedly. "And I'll let you out when we get home and you can live with me and, and-"

Wilbur tunes him out. He can feel the promise taking hold, which means the kid really does intend on letting him out. Luckily being friends with someone doesn't influence his mind, but he's still in the jar.

"Hey, do you want to play a game?" He asks. The kid brightens.

"Yes! What game?" He nearly shouts.

"We'll play Simon Says," Wilbur says with a grin. The name had become commonplace, but few humans knew the origin of the game.

"Can I go first?" The kid asked. If Wilbur interpreted the question as the kid playing first rather than giving the commands then...

"Yes," he said truthfully, as all fairies must. "But we're going to play a more fun version. You use your own name instead."

"Oh," The human said, disappointed. "But I'm not supposed to tell my name to strangers."

Wilbur feels victory, tantalizingly close.

"Well we aren't strangers anymore, are we?" He asks reasonably. The child's face brightens, and he gasps in delight.

"You're right," he says. "we're friends now! My name is Tommy!"

And just like that, Wilbur has his ticket to freedom.

"Tommy," he croons, testing the power behind the name. Tommy instantly sways in place, eyes glazing over.

"Saemonsae, Tommy," Wilbur says, speaking the true name of the spell that gives him power over anyone who gives up their name. It's the easiest spell to perform; he never met another fairy who couldn't use this spell. Even while trapped, the spell was child's play.

"Open the jar, Tommy," he commands sweetly. Instantly, the child is moving, unscrewing the lid. Wilbur flutters free, heart soaring. He circles the dazed human's head a few times before landing on the lid of the jar.

If he were a crueler being, he could pay back the imprisonment a hundredfold. If he wished, he could make Tommy do anything he wanted. A dark part of him, the part that was the most instinctual part of being a fairy, wanted to. It wanted to trap the silly boy and show him that fairies weren't toys, weren't creatures to be trifled with.

The rest of him knew that Tommy was just a kid. He would make Tommy take back the deal, the one that still bound him to be the child's friend.

But... Tommy was crying. He froze, watching the kid, still under his power sniffle. Maybe he was scared? It was very likely. He didn't have control of himself anymore, and that would scare most adults.

"Wilby," Tommy sniffled. Wilbur was morbidly curious. What would the child say while scared? Would he ask to be spared? To be freed? Wilbur wouldn't hurt him regardless, but he wanted to know. He let Tommy keep talking.

"Wilby, are you leaving?" He asked, and suddenly another part of Wilbur rose up at the desperation in the child's voice. He felt his face soften, and then Tommy spoke the final words that pierced Wilbur's heart.

"Please don't leave me alone," the little human child begged. Not worried at all about Wilbur abusing the power he had and hurting him; just wanting Wilbur to stay. How lonely was this young human, that he became so attached to the first friendly person he met? (And how soft was Wilbur, that he was already attached as well?)

"I won't leave you," Wilbur decided on a whim.

Fairies could be many things. Cruel and kind, gentle and vicious, completely truthful while being manipulative. They were also be selfish.

Wilbur liked Tommy. He was his friend because of the promise he'd made, the one that he could make the child release at any moment. But the human was also lonely and sad, and the fairy decided he was Wilbur's.

"Saemonsae, Tommy," he repeated, and the human would do as he asked. "You're going to live with me."

There's a Monster in the Sky, in the Woods, in the Fields.

It has been centuries since humanity was safe on the surface. When the Endless War of the the gods broke out, at the end of it all, the earth went to the victors. It was only by the grace and mercy of the dual gods of the Underground and Wealth that humanity was not subjugated by the powerful gods above.

The cave Tommy's village lives in is close; far too close to the territories of several very powerful gods. Their village gives sacrifices every year; the best cow in the village, the most bountiful portion of their crops. Yet still, the gods seek unsatisfied. Each year the twisting trees from the woods grow closer, and the wild crops from the field creep towards the entrance of their cave, and the sky peeks more and more through the slowly crumbling ceiling of the cave.

For centuries, the village has increased their sacrifices, giving all they can without starving their own people. Each household gives until it hurts, leaving behind everything they can spare, sometimes parting with sentimental items. It's never enough. Finally, there is only one more way to escalate the sacrifices.

They must give the gods a life to be free.

With great reluctance, the elders choose a child to be sent out. He is innocent, and he is alone. His sacrifice will be tragic, but better a poor waif with no family to miss him then one of the children of the families around. It must be a child; innocence is essential to a good sacrifice and they cannot afford to slight the gods.

The boy's name is Tommy, and he's terrified as he's tied up and dragged go the entrance of the cave. The priests are covered head to toe, so they tread as little on sacred ground as possible. Tommy is barefoot, dressed only in loose robes that fall past his knees.

He shakes as he's placed perfectly between the wild fields and dark woods, open and seen by the sky above.

The priests tie the ropes to the ground and return to the village, muttering prayers as they go. No matter how he tries, Tommy cannot free himself from the bindings. He struggles until he hears a snap of a foot on a branch.

From the woods, he comes. He is the first to arrive, and the sight of him makes Tommy's heart tremble in his chest from the sheer terror.

He is a giant, as the gods tend to be. Towering easily above the trees of his domain, and looking down at where Tommy lays bound with a curious gleam in his eyes. His eyes are a warm brown like sunwarmed soil. Brown eyes should not be able to glow, but rules don't apply to gods. His curling brown hair looks a bit like branches, and he has a crown of leaves braided around his head like a circlet. It distracts him for a moment from the pointed ears that could never be mistaken as human and the razor sharp fangs from a mouth big enough Tommy felt faint with fear.

"What have we here?" The god asks, voice melodic and resonating through Tommy's entire being. There's something almost sad in his voice, and Tommy feels the emotion despite his fear. "A little gift from the humans, I suppose."

"Are you sure this gift is for you?" a deep voice calls from behind Tommy. He freezes, a fresh wave of terror washing over him. He turns to find a second god, standing tall and proud in the fields.

He is meant to be a god of harvest, but the scent of blood fills Tommy's nose. The god looks far more like a king than a farmer, with an intricate crown of gold resting on his head. His hair is a vibrant pink, and Tommy had never found the color so intimidating as when this powerful looking god wore it. His ears and mouth were the same as the other gods, but his eyes were a terrible red, looking like blood might spill from them at any moment.

"After all," he continued, and the powerful sound made Tommy feel like his bones were vibrating in his body, "he seems to be in my field."

"Perhaps," the god of the forest says, and although there is no anger in his voice, Tommy tenses at what must be a growing argument between gods.

"You cannot deny," the Woods continues, "That he is also in my forest. He is partially bound to the roots of a tree."

"And partially bound to the soil of my fields," the harvest god finishes.

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, breathing shakily. It is said gods rarely share. Especially when it comes to matters of power, such as sacrifices, they will not accept others taking what is theirs. Will they fight to have all of him? Or will they tear him perfectly in half, split him and call it even? No matter the outcome, Tommy doesn't see himself surviving, and he whimpers quietly.

The sound of wings fluttering startles him, and he opens his eyes. The two gods must have heard it as well, because they fall silent.

Tommy's eyes catch a single feather, floating down from the sky. Despite the third shadow that is now falling over him, all he can do is watch the falling feather as is slowly drifts down, landing right next to him. It is as black as the night, looks soft as silk... And is twice as long as he is tall. He shudders uncontrollably, finally gazing up at the third god; the god of the sky.

He catches sight of him and his breath catches in his throat. That is not a mere god of the sky.

Wings as dark as death stretch behind him. He is cloaked in dark green robes that cover his hands. Soft blonde hair falls around his face, and an unmistakeable hat covers his eyes and his pointed ears. Tommy has seen his likeness carved into countless statues, painted onto the walls of the cavern, etched into books.

This was one of the Two; this was the Angel of Death, the god over all endings.

"Don't tell me you have a claim on him as well," the forest god says lightly, and Tommy shudders at the idea. The Angel of Death laughs.

"He's been placed equally between Woods, Fields and Sky; I believe we are meant to share him."

The gaze of three gods, one of them one of the two most powerful beings in the universe fall on him, and Tommy's terror becomes too much to handle. His vision goes dark, and he knows no more.

#mcyt g/t #g/t #giant/tiny #dsmp g/t #prinx fake title game #aslitheryanswers #tiny!ranboo #tiny!tommy

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getheeheed · 3 years

Text

I finished the stupid Neloth fic, @otvlanga come get your man, fellow rat wizard enjoyer. It's an x reader, and I used they/them for the character. I don't write often, so popping out almost two thousand words seems like a lot to me lol, and it's definitely a little sloppy. I had fun writing it tho and at the end of the day that's all that matters to me. Not Safe For Work stuff under cut, if I'm missing any warnings let me know and I'll add them as soon as I can.

Warnings: nsfw, voyeurism (slight), kind of graphic anal sex

All he wanted was a damn bath. Everyone seemed extremely adamant on getting on his nerves today, more so than usual, so what better idea to help him relax than a nice, hot bath, right? Wrong. You see, Neloth had forgotten one small detail, and it went by the name of [name]. And that little detail was currently occupying his bathtub, not even paying any mind to the fact that someone had entered the room. So there he was, standing in his bath robes, staring at the Dovahkiin, naked as the day they were born, going about washing themself, and the poor elf just couldn't look away. He knew, deep down, that it was wrong, that he should've immediately turned and walked in the opposite direction, but at that moment he didn't really care. Instead, he settled on closing the door behind him, and, as quietly as he could, lower himself to sit on a stool, eyes still fixed on the figure before him.

They seemed truly relaxed, something Neloth had never known them to be, as they dragged the sponge along their arms, carefully going over any new scratches or cuts and coating them in a thin sheet of soapy bubbles, slowly scrubbing the dirt and grime away. It was kind of fascinating, really, watching them twist and turn, trying to reach every spot on their back, but they got it eventually. Going from their back to the front of their torso, he felt a bit disappointed when they moved the sponge down, where the bathtub blocked his vision. So he settled, instead, for how the light reflected off their damp chest, until they lifted a leg up, making all the harder to access areas available for both their sponge and his eyes. He was enchanted, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knuckles, from the way their hand was moving up and down and up and down their calf, and then onto the next leg, repeating the movements. They then put the sponge down and took a cup in their hand, filling it with water and rinsing themselves, putting it down when they were done and getting up.

They reached for a small towel, drying their hair and face with it, then throwing it around their shoulders, and finally stepped out of the bathtub, dripping water on the floor. Neloth now had a view of, well, everything. The multiple scars adorning the Dovahkiin's body, their muscles flexing and contracting as they moved to grab a bigger towel to dry themselves off, starting with their arms, then moving down to their legs. The elf followed the movements, trained eyes making note of every single detail on their torso, moving down to where a dragon's jaws had left quite the scar on their abdomen, and right below that lay their- "Neloth?" The elf froze, quickly shooting up. Both stood there, dumbfounded for a second, one person left with a slightly open mouth, the other clutching a towel just above their knees.

"I…. I don't have an excuse." "No, you don't," [name] said plainly, lifting the towel to wrap it around their torso, taking note that Neloth's gaze still lingered downward for a bit, before turning to look up, "An explanation, maybe?". Neloth thought for a second, opening his mouth to speak, then immediately closing it, shaking his head and frowning. "No, I can't seem to find one," he said, still searching his mind for a crumb of reason behind his actions, when the other person took a step towards him, "What are you doing?" "I should be asking you that, you're the one that was watching me at my most vulnerable, and then offered no explanation whatsoever."

They were pushing, adding to the ever so growing tension between them. It had been there since the start, but now it was most unbearable. Neloth was (both literally and metaphorically) against a wall, he had to break sooner or later. "I- well- I don't-" Their bodies were inches apart. "I mean, if you had asked, I would have let you join." Silence. Did they push too far? Had they crossed the line? Their mind almost didn't register the hands grabbing at their hips, the small distance between their bodies closed, mouth pressing, no, more like crashing on theirs. The tension finally broke, and they kissed back with all they had, one hand coming to rest on his nape, the other sliding in his robes and up along his back, pulling him as close as possible.

He was sloppy in his movements, having not touched another person this way in over a century can do that to someone, but his enthusiasm and teasing hands made up for it. Well, not really. The teasing was maddening, the way his hands massaged up and down their sides, the small bites on their lips as they kissed, it drove them insane, so they retaliated by moving a hand to rest on his ass and placing their lips to his neck, nipping and sucking until they found the spot that made him moan. His hand immediately shot up to stifle the sound, but it was already out, and the Dragonborn pulled away to look at him with a smug expression. "I usually hate it when you're loud, but, I don't think I mind this". He glared daggers at them before shifting them so that their back was against the door, yanking their towel off in the process, and going on to give them the same treatment, with a few additions.

While his mouth was busy with their neck, his hands went down to hoist their legs up to his waist, grinding his hips on theirs. They threw their head back, hitting the door, a long moan drawn from their throat as they moved their hips with his, throwing their hands to his chest to claw at his robes. "Gods… Neloth, please…" they breathed out and he suddenly stopped, snapping out of his trance when he realized they were still in the bathroom, "Not here, come on".

Neloth practically dragged them to his room as fast as he could, lest someone else lay eyes upon his Dragonborn. As soon as the door closed, he crashed his mouth on theirs again, hands roaming their naked frame, slowly moving them towards the bed. Their hands worked fast, undoing his robes and helping him shrug them off, revealing his toned body as well as his already hardened cock, then pulling him down with them on the mattress. "[Name]... what did you do?" he managed to ask through kisses, "What do you mean?" "I haven't been able to finish a single project in the past three months, all because of you," he kissed the corner of their mouth, "every time I try to focus you creep into my thoughts," he moved to their jaw, "when someone mentions you my breath seems to hitch," he nipped their neck, "you must've slipped something in my tea when I wasn't looking or cast a hex or- I don't know, what did you do you little-" "Neloth." He turned to look at them, "What." "Shut the fuck up." And with that, they took his face in their palms and slipped their tongue in his mouth, soliciting a deep groan from the elf.

His hand shot out to the side, scrambling to open a drawer on his nightstand and retrieving a vial containing a questionable liquid, as well as a towel. "What's that?" "Lubricant," he replied, pulling the cork off and pouring some in his palm, "turn around, on your knees. Oh, and put this under you, will you?" he handed them the towel and they complied, confused, if a bit curious to see what would happen next. Once they were in place, he set the vial down, rubbing his hands together and gently massaging their ass, thumb brushing over their hole, making them gasp. "Take a deep breath," he said before slowly pushing a middle finger in, drawing out a long moan from the [race] and getting them to arch their back. "So needy, we've barely even started," it was his turn to be smug and they didn't even get to reply before he started moving the finger inside them, grazing their insides and adding another one, now scissoring them open. The whole time they were gasping and writhing under his grasp, trying to keep quiet in fear of being found out, and he added a third and final digit, slowly preparing them for what was to come before removing everything, making them whine at the loss.

"Sweet gods, Neloth, please…" the Dovahkiin groaned out, desperation quite evident in their voice, "Would it kill you to be a bit more patient?" Neloth questioned, taking the vial in his hand again and pouring out a generous amount, slicking his cock and positioning himself over the [race]. He placed his tip at their entrance, making them shudder, before pushing it in with an exhale, pausing to get a better hold of their hips before pushing himself in entirely, drawing out long moans from the both of them. Neloth gave them a few seconds to adjust to the feeling, and let the pain recede a bit, before he started slowly moving in and out, grinding his hips against their ass, cock never moving entirely out yet always pushing in to the hilt.

The Dragonborn groaned and writhed under him, a bit overwhelmed from the sensation, but they certainly weren't complaining, and as Neloth picked up the pace a little more they were gasping and moaning out in pleasure. Soon he had them screaming out his name, his hips snapping forward to thrust inside them deeper and harder, and it wasn't long until they came. Neloth himself wasn't that far behind, with one final thrust he released inside them with a loud moan, thick cum coating their insides, some spilling out and on the towel as he pulled himself out. When he was finished, he procured a smaller towel from the nightstand, cleaning himself and the Dragonborn best he could and putting the dirtied towels away, and laid down, pulling them with him in his arms, their back against his chest. They were both panting and covered in sweat, his skin was pleasantly warm against theirs, they noted. He also seemed softer, more relaxed than they knew him to be. Turning around in his arms, they wrapped theirs around his torso and placed their forehead against his chest. He pulled the covers over them and held them closer, kissing the top of their head. It was strange, coming from him, but they didn't mind, it was a nice change.

"We should probably have showered before crawling under the bed," they remarked, closing their eyes, "Probably. But I'm tired". "That's new," they replied, "Oh, shut up." And with that, they slept. When morning came, Varona was very puzzled as to why Neloth hadn't yelled for her yet, until she found the Telvanni in his bed, the Dragonborn in his arms, dead asleep for the first time in years. She let them be, making sure to warn Talvas not to enter the room, before setting off to make some canis root tea for when the elf awoke.

#my stupid writing #skyrim x reader #neloth x reader #dunmer #neloth #telvanni #tesblr #tes #skyrim

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laws-hat-headcanons · 4 years

Note

*slides in* hello again lololol I would like to request Mistletoe for Zoro, awkward and female reader please 😊😊 I really really really really really love how well you write Zoro so I'm hella excited for this lol

Hey @leynadoodles

Thank you for requesting for everyone's favourite green haired idiot! And thank you so much for your lovely words, it really means a lot to me! I hope you enjoy the first of the Winter Event posts!! 🤍

Winter Event: Zoro - Mistletoe - Awkward - Female Reader

Word Count - 687

Zoro tipped back his sake and let out a contented sigh, his eyes moving across the various gathered crew members until they came to rest on Name. She was helping Nami to set up the Christmas decorations, hanging garlands of something across the banisters and around the door frames.

He watched the two of them laughing together over something Nami had said. Zoro felt the edges of his mouth lift at the sound of Names laugh as it drifted to him across the deck, at the way her smile always reached her eyes and made the corners crinkle.

When she tucked some stray hairs behind her ear, he briefly wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through her hair. Then he blinked, shook his head and turned away, the tips of his ears burning as he realised the path his thoughts had taken.

He carefully kept his eyes away from Name until the singsong voice of Sanji called the two women inside for dinner, followed by a much less enthusiastic shout for himself.

Zoro pushed to his feet and made his way across the deck, climbing the stairs to the kitchen before realising Name was still fixing some tinsel outside the door, blocking his way.

“Oi, Name, foods ready,” Zoro prompts, coming to a stop beside them.

“Ah, I know, I just wanted to get this bit finished,” She tells him, stepping back and dusting off her hands. “What do you think? Festive, right?”

“Mhm,” He nods, glancing at the glittery strands snaking around the deck with disinterest. “Looks good.”

Name grins and pushes open the door to the kitchen where the rest of the crew have already gathered, with Zoro a step behind.

“Stop!” Nami calls, before they can enter. The oranged haired navigator gives them a wicked grin before pointing above their heads where a single sprig of mistletoe is hanging.

“Oh, ah, I forgot we put that there.” Name mutters, glancing at Zoro with a blush quickly blooming across her cheeks.

Zoro frowns and looks up at the plant dangling from the ceiling. “What is it?”

“Y-you don’t know what mistletoe is?” Name asks, eyebrows raised.

Zoro shrugs.

“Oh boy,” Name lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of her head. “It’s uh - well, there’s this old tradition where when two people meet under the mistletoe they - uh..”

“They what?” Zoro asks, frowning. He glances to the dinner table where Nami is giggling and Robin is hiding her smile behind her hand.

“Well, they’re supposed to kiss,” Name says, shrugging nonchalantly, though the blush on her cheeks is spreading quickly. “But we don’t have to! If you.. If you don’t want to.”

Zoro blinks once then again, his eyebrows drawing down as his brain works over what Name has just said. He feels the tips of his ears beginning to warm again.

“I - You want me to…” He tried, unable to bring himself to say ‘kiss’.

“Well only if you want to,” Name says, rubbing her arm self consciously.

Zoro glances at the table again, sees the grinnings faces of his crewmates and quickly steps back outside, pulling Name with him. He slams the door shut and turns to face Name, who is looking at him with concerned eyes, worried she has upset him.

“So I just..?” Zoro questions awkwardly.

“Yeah,” She nods, “But you don’t hav-”

Zoro doesn’t let her finish, his hand fits to the smooth curve of her neck, warm against his cold fingers, and he leans in.

When their lips meet Zoro is instantly concerned he is doing something wrong, but Names hands come up to rest on his chest and she returns the kiss without hesitation. He isn’t sure how long it’s mean to go on for so he waits for Name to make the decision.

When she does break the kiss they are both breathing a little heavier, faces flushed. She smiles shyly at him and Zoro resists the urge to look away to hide his own blush, but instead he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and nods.

“Mistletoe, huh?”

#roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro headcanons #one piece #one piece zoro #zoro scenario #one piece scenario #winter event

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emersonfreepress · 3 years

Note

ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅

#lovely anon #answered #ROs #scenarios #someone pls confirm that kile is using paint pellets thx #I can totally see myself writing this out as a an actual short story 😂#maybe as a kofi reward whenever I get that set up 🤞🏾#I don't think any of these are incomplete...

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shadowed-dancer · 3 years

Text

My Thoughts on the New MHA Opening and Ending

I have thoughts, and I will share them because oh boy if I don’t get this out I’m gonna explode

Vague Spoilers for the manga (up to chapter 258 and vigilantes) because I discuss the upcoming arcs, but I don’t discuss any major plot points in detail. Still, proceed with caution if you’re anime only

Keep in mind, this OP and ED will cover the Endeavour Agency Arc and the MVA Arc, so I will be judging them accordingly.

First, the OP

This is a good OP... in theory (that’s going to become my catchphrase for this post). It’s nice to look at and flows pretty well, but my biggest problem is that it doesn’t do it’s job. An OP is supposed to be a sort of... summary (?) of the Cour it plays for. That means any cool plot points, emotional beats, and important characters should be featured in some way, shape, or form. We’ll talk about that more later, but first let’s discuss the music.

The song is really good. I have a feeling it will continue to grow on me as I listen to it more often, but yeah my first impression is that the song sounds great. My only complaint about the music itself is that it ends kind of abruptly (I noticed this is the JT opening too). The previous openings used to have a bit of instrumental to “play us out” and lead us to the end card, but this one feels like it ends very suddenly and unnaturally.

As for the visuals...

Yeah alright I’ll admit, the visuals are stunning... in theory. I appreciate the variety in backgrounds and colours, it makes the OP really interesting to look at. This was actually one of my biggest problems with the JT Opening, it all took place on the training grounds, so there was no variety (everything was metal tubes with a blue sky, with only 3 shots set somewhere different). I appreciate the style of this OP.

But like I said, that’s only in theory, as in, through screenshots these are all pleasing to look at. The pacing of this OP is wild, and I truly don’t know who to blame for this.

That sunset shot above? It lasts approximately 12 seconds, zooming in every few to make it seem like something is happening (when in reality it’s still the same poses, angles, etc). While there’s nothing wrong with a nice, drawn out shot, it becomes irritating when compared to the pacing of the rest of this op.

At the 41 second mark, we are given the shot above. It has flowed directly from the previous sunset scene. We still have not moved away from the image of the trio (aside from the opening shot and the title card) yet we’re approaching the halfway mark of the OP.

The next shot is the MLA, which lasts about 5 seconds. Ok, perfect. Not too long, but also not short enough to be confusing. It cuts away a little fast once the dude on the far left appears, but does anyone actually know who that is? No, seriously, I’m asking. I don’t remember his name and he’s not on the wiki, so I can only assume he’s not important. Therefore, it’s not all that bad if the shot cuts away shortly after he comes into frame. The audience is able to take in the scene without having to pause...

... And then the problems start

While this shot is fine in theory, it pans up fast and cuts away quickly. You know how hard it was for me to get this screenshot? Really hard. You want to know why I struggled so much? Because, due to the timing of the cut and the way it pans upwards, it’s almost impossible to pause on Dabi’s face. I literally had to go frame by frame to get it, because he’s in shot for so little time that naturally pausing is guaranteed to miss him.

When watching this in real time (without pausing) the cut away makes you feel as if you missed something because “something was there, I just couldn’t register what because now it’s gone”. Unlike Compress, who wears a very colourful coat you can recognize the entire time, Dabi’s pants are more blended into the background.

It also doesn’t help that this shot is literally composed to draw your attention away from Dabi until the last possible second. Due to framing, your eye is naturally drawn to the brightly coloured Toga in the foreground, making it super easy to miss Dabi in the back (until, of course, his bright face appears and contrasts against the background, drawing your eye just in time for the scene to change, leaving you to wonder who or what you missed).

I know this sounds like nitpicking, but this shot is the only group shot we get of the League, and is also the start of a seriously weird trend for the villains in this OP getting the short end of the stick.

Anyways, then we get what I’ll call “The Carousel Shot” in which every Class 1A kid shows up and poses dramatically, as if they were on a carousel. It’s a lovely sequence and I really enjoy watching it but... why is it in this OP?

Seriously, this is a genuine question. Class 1A barely shows up in the Endeavour Agency Arc, and NONE of the students are in MVA. This sequence (not counting the three boys at the end) lasts 8 seconds. Why is this much time dedicated to characters who are barely in the arc? (Unless Studio Bones extends their work studies into fuller plot lines which oh my gosh please don’t do that, or if they do, do it quick).

We then get what I call the “Oh God I Blinked And Missed Everything” sequence, which lasts 3 seconds (not including the longer, moving shot of Shigaraki at the end) and features NINE INDIVIDUAL IMAGES, none of which are related to each other. Not only is this 3 images per second, but the fact that they are all unrelated means you can’t even use previous information to fill in the blanks.

What do I mean by that? Well, imagine if I show you 9 images of various pro heroes posing. If I play that in 3 seconds you’ll absolutely miss some of them, but as long as you catch some you’ll still get an idea of what I’m trying to show to you. Your brain is able to fill in the gaps that “I recognized 4 pro heroes, therefore the rest must have also been pros” even if you didn’t register every single frame.

That doesn’t work if every frame features a completely different subject. The shots in this sequence vary so widely that it’s impossible to find a through line. Some feature multiple characters, some feature one, some are closeups, some are super far away, some are character’s we know, others are characters we don’t. It’s impossible to get a solid read on what you’re being shown.

Now, again, there’s nothing wrong with these super quick shots... in theory. The problem comes from the fact that these shots are the only indicators for some of the major themes that will be explored during this Cour (like Twice’s growth and young Shigaraki).

That being said, let’s move away from criticism and talk about speculation, because hidden amongst this sequence are two... interesting images.

This All Might one is very reminiscent of the shot in Chapter 257, where Aizawa and All Might have a conversation while staring up at the stars. However, this is technically the start of the “War Arc” (or the “prologue”, if that’s what you want to call it), so this might indicate that we’re going to get farther into the series than a lot of us guessed.

(Many people suspected we’d get to that cliffhanger at the start of the season (if you read the manga you know the one), but after seeing the pacing for JT a lot of us assumed we’d be lucky to even finish Endeavour Agency. It seems we’re back to the cliffhanger now though lol).

This is another really interesting shot because it’s indicative of Shirakumo, meaning we might get to see Aizawa and Mic confront him some time this Cour (this also makes sense, since this confrontation technically happens before that All Might scene I mentioned in the previous paragraph).

But the cat specifically is a really strange addition. That cat is named Sushi and, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Sushi is ever mentioned in the main series. I think he’s only in Vigilantes.

This might just be a little Easter Egg for Vigilante readers, but I’m personally hoping that they’ll add at least a few Vigilante shots in there to really tug at the heart strings. I’d say I want a whole Vigilante episode but I don’t think they have the time (unless they really cram MVA, which I do NOT want).

I don’t have much to say about the last bit of the OP. The action shot between the 3 boys was nice, and it follows the sort of narrative through line they established from the early shot of them sitting at the sunset. I also like the shot of Endeavour fading in to replace All Might, even if it’s very simple.

But I want to talk about an overarching problem I touched upon earlier in that villain shot: the way the villains are handled in this OP.

This is a good OP... in theory. The problem is, it doesn’t represent half the arcs in the cour! Every shot of the League is so rushed that you can barely register that they were on screen before they’re gone.

I have no idea how many Episodes Endeavour Agency will take, but I’d assume 3 (4 if you count the Christmas episode). 12 episodes for this Cour minus 3 for Endeavour Agency = 9 episodes left. If we truly do get the prologue for the War Arc (and if we assume it’s only 1 episode) that leaves us with 8 villains episodes.

8/12 episodes (aka two thirds of the Cour) will likely be about the villains. And yet they’re pushed to the background so hard in this OP.

I want to dream, and I want to believe that this OP is going to magically change when MVA starts. The song fits super well, and I can imagine like an inversion of the OP but from the Villain side! Wouldn’t that be neat? Imagine right after the “it’s alright” part Shigaraki just freaking decays the title card... oh man that would be so cool. But, alas, I highly doubt they’d do that.

Side rant, but you know what was so fun about MVA in the manga? It’s that, for 21 chapters, we leave the kids behind and the villains become our protagonists. Suddenly Shigaraki is the one we’re rooting for, suddenly we’re learning backstories for everyone, and suddenly we find ourselves just as attached to the villains as we are to the kids. It’s an inversion that’s SO RARE to find, and I think many people (myself included) were hoping it would be reflected in the OP.

A big part of being the protagonist means featuring heavily in the OP, and a lot of us just wanted the villains to get that honour, even if only once. As is, the OP still treats them as the antagonists when... really they aren’t. Not right now, at least.

So yeah, final thoughts on the OP are that it’s good, it’s just not very representative of the arcs it’s supposed to cover. If this was just for Endeavour Agency, I’d say it’s actually really cool, but if we assume that this is what will play for the Villain Arc, then it simply doesn’t do it’s job. And it makes me sad to say that because, again, this OP is really well done.

If I had to rate it? Hmmm

If Studio Bones actually grants my wish and creates a different visual for the Villain Arc (while using the same song) and then this version only plays for the Endeavour Agency Arc and the War Prologue? I’d give it an 8/10. It’s really good, but it could use a few more elements that are clearly derived from the Agency Arc (ahem, Todoroki siblings).

But if this is the OP that will play for the entire Cour? a 6.5/10. It’s nice, but it’s not representative of one of the arcs it’s going to cover. And, unlike other arcs like Pro Hero or Summer Exams, the villain Arc is so important and takes up so much time that it honestly feels like a bit of a disservice.

Now for the Ending

I want to say that I appreciate how soft this ending starts. This cour will likely feature a lot of episodes that end on... heavier themes, and I think the sight of peaceful, falling raindrops is the perfect way to let the audience process their emotions before starting the ending in earnest.

The song itself is very nice, and I like that it’s a bit slower than the more recent endings.

(Side note, but the FUNNIEST moment in the entire series is when Sir Nighteye dies because it’s so emotional and everyone is standing around his bed in his heartwrentching silence, only for the ending to come BLARING IN out of no where. If you forgot how jarringly hilarious it was, go listen to the Eri ending and tell me that’s not the funniest thing this series ever did. Anyways yeah I’m glad that’s not gonna happen this Cour).

This ending is a bit all over the place in terms of it’s visuals, but honestly I think it works. Most endings usually have a theme tying them together (all the Class 1A girls, a fantasy AU, old photographs, planning a party, etc) but this ending’s theme is a bit harder to identify.

That being said, I think it’s just supposed to show everyone going about their day. It’s calm, it’s peaceful, and it’s just very sweet to think about

I like this shot. Actually, scratch that, I like this whole sequence. I enjoy anything that allows Class 1A to chill and have fun.

Hawks is featured quite heavily in this ending which, fair. He’s pretty important in this arc.

I really love the shot where Endeavour immediately switches to Hawks, I thought that was a lot of fun, and very good symbolism on how Hawks wants to be like Endeavour. I also love all the shots of Baby Hawks, because it’s adorable.

Something about this shot is just so cute. It’s the little domestic things like waiting for a bus that make this ending feel... idk the word, real? It shows a side of the characters that we’ll never see in the episodes, but we know have to exist.

Like yes, of course the kids have to wait for the bus. We never see it, but of course there are those moments of quiet. Agh, I love it.

The villains also make an appearance and I’m very happy about that (I’d love to see more of the villains just chilling around, I think they deserve it). I kind of wish they weren’t sitting in a dark room for the sake of being edgy, since I think it would be nice to see the villains just... sort of existing, but honestly it’s still a nice shot. I also like how this shot sort of mirrors the first one with Class 1A (someone coming in while everyone else is sitting and waiting for them).

That being said, as much as I love looking at Dabi and his stupid face (affectionate)... why is Dabi the one getting the closeup?

Mind you, endings don’t need to be connected to their Cours (they can be, like the Eri one, but they don’t have to be). But this ending does seem to be connected to the arcs it intends to cover, given all the Hawks appearances, the boys wearing their work study scarves, etc.

So, I ask again, why Dabi? Out of the six League members, we learn the backstory for four of them in this arc (Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, and we very briefly learn about Spinner). The only two left out are Dabi and Compress.

I can only assume they chose Dabi because he’s constantly in contact with Hawks, and therefore that makes him important? If the OP told us anything, it’s that Bones values the Endeavour Agency Arc over the Villain Arc lol...

... Oh my gosh please tell me that’s not actually the reason Dabi is focused on here BONES WAI-

Anyways, the ending comes to a close with Hawks watching over the kids and Endeavour. The relaxing time is done, it’s time for work studies.

Overall impression? It’s great. It’s hard to screw up an ending, so as long as you have something pretty on screen, it’s wonderful.

I’ll give this a 9/10

#bnha #bnha season 5 #dabi #keigo takami #bnha season five #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #mha season 5 #mha season five #bnha op #bnha opinions #izuku midoriya #bnha hawks #ok to reblog #actually yes please do reblog if you found this interesting #I worked hard on it

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